


The Beauty of Broken Things

by zabjade



Series: Far to Go [21]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 09:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: While on a trip to L.A., Buffy runs into Angel, who has a few things to say about her life choices.





	The Beauty of Broken Things

He almost missed her. He didn’t really use his senses as often as most vampires, but he’d been patrolling the back alleys and had taken a deep breath of the late spring air to check for anything else nearby. He may have been a little shaky on her eye color – though he knew it was either blue or hazel… or maybe green – but Angel hadn’t forgotten Buffy’s scent.

 _Just ignore it,_ he told himself, turning away. Buffy was his past, and he needed to get back to the Hyperion soon. His team had proved a couple of years ago that they could function perfectly fine without him, but that didn’t mean he could just run off after Buffy whenever she showed up. Though it would be good to know just what she thought she was doing here in _his_ city. She was the one who was always insisting he call instead of just showing up in Sunnydale, yet here she was.

His thoughts flickered back to his last time in Sunnydale, over a year ago. He hadn’t even seen her that time. He’d just spoken to her on the phone while taking a walk with a very pregnant Spike. Angel shuddered at the memory. _Is she still with him?_ he wondered. _Or…._

He took another deep breath to catch her scent again, then followed it. He’d expected to find her in another alley, fighting vampires or demons, but when he caught sight of her, she was just walking down the street. She looked like any other young woman, shopping bags in her hands and a spring in her step. She seemed… happy.

He followed her for a couple of minutes, staying far enough back so it wasn’t obvious to the other people in the street. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should just go back to the Hyperion and wait for her to show up. Part of him didn’t want her there. Didn’t want the past intruding on what he had with Cordelia and Connor. Another part wanted to flaunt it. To show off his own partner and baby.

Before he could decide what he was going to do, she ducked into an alley. Had she heard something that he hadn’t? A cry for help he’d missed while lost in thought? This was _his_ city. His people. He wasn’t going to leave Buffy to do his job.

He’d just turned the corner when he was grabbed and slammed against a building, the point of a stake pressed against his chest. There was no one else in the alley. Just him and a really annoyed looking slayer. Of course.

“Okay, seriously?” she said, glaring at him. “This has _got_ to stop. Sixteen-year-old kid me was kind of stupid and thought the whole stalking thing was romantic. Adult me? _So_ not digging the creeper vibe, Angel.”

She backed away, taking the stake away from his chest but keeping it in her hand. It was her other hand, though, that caught his attention. The light filtering into the alley sparkled off of a pair of a rings. Both were made of some silvery metal. One had a diamond flanked by a couple of sapphires. The other was a simple wedding band.

Wedding band…. Marriage. Buffy was married.

The chip his team had insisted on putting in his head would make sure he never got completely, perfectly happy. That meant it was safe for them to be together. He’d never acted on it, though. He’d chosen Cordelia. Despite that, he’d never really closed the emotional door on Buffy. She’d always still been there, off in the distance. A shiny prize waiting for him to collect someday. And now….

“Who is he?” he asked harshly.

As if he really needed to. But he wanted to be wrong, despite being able to smell him on her. Weddings were part of normal life. They didn’t involve monsters like Spike. _Or monsters like myself,_ he thought bitterly. It didn’t matter if they both had souls. They were still vampires.

Buffy looked confused for a moment, then noticed where he was looking. Instead of embarrassment or any kind of discomfort, her expression shifted to a soft smile as she lifted her left hand to admire the rings. Then she looked at him, the annoyance back as she lowered her hand.

“As if you even need to ask. Now, why were you following me?” Her grip tightened unconsciously on the stake. Probably unconsciously.

“I was out patrolling when I…” _smelled,_ “saw you. I figured I’d save you a trip to the Hyperion. Though, as you’re so fond of saying, you really should have called first instead of just coming to my city.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “ _Your_ city?” She shook her head in disgust and finally put the stake away. “Okay, first of all, Sunnydale is small enough that calling it mine makes sense. The _only_ reason for you to go there is if it involves me in some way. But here’s a newsflash for you, Angel. L.A. is a big city. There’s a major airport here that Mom uses a lot when going on buying trips. We dropped her off earlier tonight. Right after visiting my grandma, who happens to live here along with a lot of my other relatives.”

Oh. Right. He’d somehow forgotten that her roots were here, in L.A., rather than Sunnydale. He shifted uncomfortably. He’d jumped to conclusions about some things and made a few assumptions. That was on him. That didn’t mean that he was wrong about everything. Or that he should keep quiet.

“You shouldn’t be with him,” he said quietly. Her jaw clenched and her eyes – hazel – flashed. “And not just because he’s a vampire,” he added before she could interrupt. “He’s….” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you think you know Spike, but you don’t. Not as much as I do. He can’t be with anyone. Not really. He’s broken. Dru broke him.” _I broke him._ “He’s a pet, not a partner. That’s what Dru needed, so she found someone she could mold into her very own service dog. He wants to be owned, and he doesn’t know how to function if he isn’t. That isn’t healthy. It’s not something you should have to deal with.”

The disgust was still there and still firmly aimed at him. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” She held up a hand to stop him before he could say anything else. “You go and live your life. Don’t tell me how to live mine.”

Then she gathered up her bags and walked away.

 

**...**

_He’s broken._

The words swirled through Buffy’s mind as she walked towards the hotel room. Little snippets of what Angel had said, circling like sharks. _He’s a pet, not a partner. He’s broken…. He wants to be owned. He’s broken…. She found someone she could mold into her very own service dog. He’s broken…._

She stopped in front of the door to their room and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. As much as she’d like to, she couldn’t truthfully say he’d been completely wrong. Spike had some issues. She snorted at that and shook her head. Yeah, _some_ issues. Between the two of them, they had at least half a dozen full on magazine subscriptions. And okay, maybe some of those were Cosmo or one of those zoo ones with the animals, but others were the Scientific Journal of Complex Thingies.

Angel himself was one of the heavier ones, and it was going to get triggered pretty quickly once she walked through the door. He hadn’t tried to kiss her or anything – thank god – but slamming him against the building with the stake to his chest had gotten her close enough that his scent would still be on her. Had it been worth it? She thought about it for a minute. _Yeah,_ she decided, thinking of the look that had been on Angel’s face, _totally worth it._ And once she’d reassured him about things, Spike would get a kick out of hearing about the stake.

Her thoughts drifted to how she could reassure him. There would have to be words, because Spike needed them just as much as action. But the action would have to be there, too. Mmmm… action. She had some magically reinforced rope packed in with her clothes. She could…. _He’s a pet…._ Buffy forced the words away, shifting her bags so she could keep a hold on them as she dug the key card out of her pocket to open the door.

“…right, and a personal pan pepperoni.”

Spike was on the phone, the handset held between his ear and shoulder since both of his arms were busy. One was holding Aliena balanced on his hip while the other was being used in an attempt at a one-handed diaper change on a squirmy – but more-or-less cooperative – two-year-old.

Buffy set her shopping bags on the floor as she leaned against the door to close it, just watching him for a moment. It should have seemed weird. Her punk, bad boy vampire with his bleached hair and black clothes, handling a pair of toddlers like it was the most natural thing in the world. _It kinda is,_ she realized, not for the first time. For him, it really was. From all the things he’d told her, and what she’d seen for herself, he was a natural caregiver. It was something that had always been be a part of him. Something that had been drawn out and honed by his decades with…. _She found someone she could mold into her very own service dog…._

Spike shifted a bit, just enough so he could glance over his shoulder at her without dropping the phone. She could tell from the look in his eyes the exact moment when he caught the lingering scent of Angel. Fear and uncertainty, because he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that someone would choose him over Angel. She saw all that, and also saw him force it back into the cage where he tried to keep his insecurities.

 _Dru broke him,_ Angel’s voice whispered through her thoughts. Because heaven forbid that he ever take responsibility for his own part in things.

Buffy shook her head to clear it of Angel, then pushed off the door to help by scooping Aliena up in her arms. Spike mouthed a thank you, expertly finishing up the diaper change as he rattled off the name and room number of their hotel to the person on the other end of the phone.

While he was doing all that, Buffy sat down on the bed with Aliena, taking off her shirt and bra so the baby could nurse. All of the tension of the night melted from her as the nursing hormones flooded her system. _Even better than retail therapy,_ she thought, gazing down at the little girl in her arms. Wavy golden hair and hazel eyes. Different from her older sister’s brown curls and baby blues, but some of their features were the same. Like the perfect little Cupid’s bow mouths they’d both inherited from their daddy.

“There we are, love,” he said to Thursday after hanging up. “Nappy’s all changed, and since you were good, you get your treat.”

“Tweat! Tweat!” she squealed. “Bud jop!”

He went over to the love seat where he’d draped his coat and dug a small baggie out of one of the pockets. It was filled with the little blood treats Tara and the Wicca group had figured out how to make. They used expired hospital blood as a base, since the preservatives made it sweet. Then they were turned into gummi bear sized balls with the consistency of jello and further preserved with magic. They were, like, super gross, but the kids both loved them. So did Spike, though he tended to consider hospital blood a little too sweet if he had access to something better.

He got Thursday settled into the playpen with her treat, then came to sit down beside Buffy on the bed. He was trying to hide it, but he was tense. _Too bad he can’t nurse the babies,_ she thought as she shifted Aliena to her other breast. God knew he could use the stress relief. Though her getting to nurse them did help spread out the bonding. They’d grown inside of him, their entire world until the moment when they’d come out.

Buffy took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Angel decided to dust off the whole creepy night stalker routine,” she said. “Would have served him right if I’d staked him, but I just slammed him against a building and held the stake against his chest for a minute.”

Spike snorted and shook his head, suddenly a little more at ease. There was still a little tension there, though. Vulnerability and fear that he’d be cast aside. Unwanted. _He wants to be owned…._

“Glad you didn’t do it, pet. Those are new shoes you’ve got on. Be a right bitch, getting his dust cleaned off of ‘em.”

“That would have been a major tragedy,” she said with an exaggerated shudder. She stretched out one leg, looking down at the high-heeled boot made of dark indigo suede. She slowly lowered her leg. “How long until the pizza gets here?”

“About twenty-five minutes or so.” He tilted his head, watching as she got up and headed towards the playpen with Aliena. “Getting hungry?”

“Yeah,” she said, gently putting Aliena down in the playpen. The one-year-old curled up sleepily beside Thursday, who lightly patted her on the head.

Buffy smiled down at them, then turned back to Spike. Twenty-five minutes wasn’t really a lot of time, but she knew she could manage something. They’d gotten good at snatching what time they could during the last two years. Babies always seemed to have some magical sixth sense about things.

“I’m hungry,” she said, slowly licking her lips. “And pizza sounds good, too.”

And then, before he had a chance to really process what she said, she pounced, pinning him to the bed.

_He’s a pet…._

_He wants to be owned…._

_He’s broken…._

For the next twenty minutes, she showed him who was in charge. She proved that she owned him. That he belonged to her. The pizza guy was right on time, giving her five minutes to run a warm, damp washcloth over all of the scratches and bites. To gently caress and kiss each bruise. She’d been able to get a sip of water and a couple of gulps of blood into him before the knock at the door.

Thirty minutes after it had all started, she was sitting on the bed in a robe, eating pizza one-handed and watching TV. The kids were still in the playpen, each happily gnawing on a little slice from the personal pan. Spike was curled up on the bed, naked except for the rope tied around his wrist. His head was in her lap, her free hand absently stroking the tousled curls. He was completely relaxed, like a cat sprawled in a patch of sun.

Once she’d finished her current slice of pizza, she picked up one of his – a supreme with anchovies and jalapenos – and held it down near his mouth. His lips were a little swollen and the corners raw from the gag she’d used, but he was able to take a bite without seeming to be in too much pain.

“Do you need more blood?” she asked quietly once he was done chewing. The pizza wouldn’t do anything for him other than taste good, but she wasn’t sure if he was ready yet for a boost to his healing. Sometimes he just liked to leave things for a little bit and feel her marks on his body.

“Not just yet.”

He took another bite, the motion of his jaw drawing her attention to one of the bruises she’d left along it. They were all over his body, along with the half-healed wounds from her nails and teeth. It was pretty, really. Dark blue and purple blossoms decorating the pale flesh along with traceries of red. Broken blood vessels and broken skin.

Her gaze drifted to his bound hands. The skull ring she’d proposed to him with – the same that he’d used to propose to her when they’d been under Willow’s spell all those years ago – was on his right ring finger. His left had a pair of rings similar to her own, both sets layered with charms to keep them from being scratched up or lost. They were all white gold, but his diamond was black, and the two flanking stones were greenish-brown andalusites that looked green from certain angles. The accent stones of both of their rings was supposed to represent the color of the other’s eyes. Buffy had figured they’d just use emeralds for his, but he’d insisted on finding something closer to hazel.

 _“You haven’t green eyes, love,”_ he’d said at the time. _“Those bits of brown are a part of you. Want them represented if we can find somethin’.”_

It was a beautiful sentiment. And beautiful stones. They were broken, if you thought about it. Broken down and shaped, creating facets that sparkled in the light. Beautiful stones, and a beautiful man, even if he _was_ broken. Maybe more so because of that brokenness.

_He’s a pet…. He wants to be owned…. He’s broken…. He can’t be with anyone…._

Angel had been right about some things. Spike was broken, and he had been Dru’s pet. He wanted to be owned. If he needed to be owned, then she would own him. She would let him know that he belonged to her. He wanted to be kept, and she was going to keep him. Because Angel had been dead wrong.

 _“He’s broken,”_ Angel had said, as if it really meant anything. As if broken couldn’t be beautiful.

Her thoughts drifted to all the things Angel had put her through. To the lackluster parenting she’d gotten from her father, especially compared to how Spike was with the girls. The treatment she’d gotten from Riley before she’d finally dumped him. How shattered she’d felt in the aftermath of each man.

Just because he was broken didn’t mean Spike couldn’t be with anyone. He could be with her.

After all, she was broken, too.


End file.
